


To the Stars Who Listen, And the Dreams That Are Answered

by HighLadyOfRomanceAndAngst



Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: Date Rape Drug/Roofies, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-18
Updated: 2020-04-18
Packaged: 2021-03-02 04:08:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,918
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23708911
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HighLadyOfRomanceAndAngst/pseuds/HighLadyOfRomanceAndAngst
Summary: Prompt: So... that just happenedThe man merely grinned an adder’s smile and pushed her drink towards her, his hand covering the top of the glass. “Drink up.”
Relationships: Feyre Archeron/Rhysand
Comments: 3
Kudos: 28





	To the Stars Who Listen, And the Dreams That Are Answered

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! This is one of my fics I'm posting on my own to Ao3. I typically just post on Tumblr, but I wanted to try something new. If there is anything I need to fix on this chapter, some warning that I left out, please let me know. I'm still not entirely sure how to use this website, so any and all suggestions would be helpful.

Feyre slammed her drink down on the bar, the amber liquid burning her throat, roaring like a wildfire. She motioned a finger for the bartender to refill her glass to take another shot. Another glass was poured, and then another, and then another.  
In the middle of her eighth shot, a man sat down next to her with golden-blonde hair and shockingly green eyes. “Can I buy you a drink?”  
Feyre could barely hear the man over the cotton in her ears and the blaring music drowning out her senses. From what she could hear his voice was a musical melody that instantly drew her to him. Turning her head to the right, she raked her eyes up and down to see what she would be getting herself into.  
The man had a roughness about him, while still appearing like a gentleman. He wore a tailored suit that fit his frame nicely, but there was wildness in his posture. Almost like he was used to fighting on a battlefield, rather than sitting in nice clothing.  
“I don’t know, can you,” Feyre slurred, then immediately burst out laughing. Mother, she was so drunk. And yet it was the only way she could forget about him.  
A wicked light entered the man’s eyes as he took in the looseness of her limbs and the way she spoke just a little too loudly. “I’ll take a glass of whiskey over ice, make it strong.” He didn’t take his eyes off her as he ordered her a drink. Feyre didn’t have the heart to tell him that she hated that one. It reminded her of him.  
Something didn’t feel quite right about the situation, but Feyre was too lost in her own head to notice anything amiss. “What’s your name handsome? I’ll bet you’re a Killian or an Alex. You look like one of those.”  
He laughed, low and deep, the sound menacing even to her own addled brain. “One of my brothers was named Killian, but he was murdered some time ago.”  
The bartender arrived with her drink, but neither one looked away from each other. And Feyre, not realizing he was serious, said, “I’ll have to use that joke next time.”  
The man merely grinned an adder’s smile and pushed her drink towards her, his hand covering the top of the glass. “Drink up.”  
Not noticing the hungry gleam in the man’s eyes, she chugged it all down in one gulp, ice now shooting through her veins. Time seemed to slow down, even the music struggled to keep its pace. Feyre yawned, suddenly extraordinarily exhausted. “I think it’s getting a little late for me. Thanks for the drink, but I better go home.”  
Grinning like a fool, the man gripped her arm in an iron hold as she attempted to leap off the barstool. “I don’t think so, sweetie.”  
Fear pumped its way into her veins, moving faster than a shooting star. “Did you put something in my drink?” Feyre’s words were now even more sluggish than before, barely able to bite out a few sentences.  
“Not at all. What makes you say that?”  
Before she could answer, a beautiful male with ink black hair and violet eyes strolled up to them, with his hands in his pockets. “There you are. I’ve been looking for you.”  
It was him. Rhysand. Rhys. Her former love who left her for a girl named Amarantha. A girl who hated Feyre’s guts with a passion.  
The world seemed to come to a halt as she remembered who she used to be with him. A naive girl who thought he would never hurt her. But now his bright eyes spoke of pain and sadness that hadn’t been there when he left her standing out in the rain with a broken heart.  
Then faster than she could blink, the golden haired man tossed her over his shoulder and ran out the door. Her vision blurry, Feyre could hardly see that Rhys followed them out into the cold dampness of the night. Why would he do that? He had left her alone six months previously.  
The man seemed to know that Rhys would follow for he brought her to a closed off alleywall, with no witnesses to what he was going to do to her. Feyre’s limbs were weak with the drug that had been put in her drink, so she could do nothing but lie in his arms, waiting for the end. He set her on her feet, pulling her close against his body. A knife appeared in his hands, holding it against her throat. If she so much as swallowed, she was sure to slice open her own neck on the grey stone pavement with no hint as to who had killed her. It would serve Rhys right to watch her die in front of him, since he had missed it last time. Once that door was slammed in her face, all those months ago, she had withered and decayed until she was a ghost floating through life, unable to find happiness.  
A few moments later, Rhys raced around the corner, his breaths ragged in his chest. He braced his hands on his knees for a moment before standing to his full height.  
Feyre knew Rhys was wickedly cunning and would do anything for the ones he loved. But did he even love her anymore?  
“Let her go, or else,” Rhys snarled, his hands clenched into fists at his side, rage simmering off of him in waves.  
“Or what? You’ll kill me with your pretty boy looks?”  
“Or else you’ll end up in the ground just like your father and brothers. Rhys smiled that cruel grin of his and threw a hidden dagger faster than either of them could see from the pocket of his coat.  
The man hissed as the dagger landed true, straight into his heart.  
Still, he did not let of Feyre. His body was trembling with the restraint of holding them both upright. “It’ll take more than that to kill me.” The man snarled.  
Feyre’s eyes began to flutter shut from the weight of sleep weighing down on her bones. A yell sounded and she was dropped onto the ground like a rag doll. A warm spread underneath her, the substance almost thick in quantity.  
“Feyre.” Rhys’s panicked voice came next to her ear. “Darling, stay with me. I’ve got you. You’re safe.”  
Safe… free… this must be a dream.  
Prying open her lips she whispered. “I thought you hated me. I thought we were enemies.”  
Feyre didn’t hear his response as she floated away from her body. Sleep came over her like a warm blanket, comforting in its lightness.  
Some time later, she woke up in a hospital bed with beeping machines surrounding her. Rhys was sleeping next to her in a hard, plastic chair. His hand was loosely gripped around hers, his head bowed like he was in prayer. With a trembling hand, a hand still coated in blood, she reached over and gently ran her fingers through his hair, careful not to disturb him. Rhys looked peaceful while he was asleep. Like a fallen angel to tempt her into sin. His face twitched in his sleep, but his light snores continued on. It was odd to see him vulnerable like this again. Like she had done once, so long ago. Her lips formed his name, caressing each of the familiar syllables with her tongue.  
Rhys jerked awake as if he heard her, looking around wildly, but he didn’t remove his hand from hers.  
“Feyre? Are you alright? Do you need a nurse?”  
He stood up and opened his mouth to shout for someone, her hand falling from his grip. She fervently shook her head, not wanting to be pitied any more than she was. “I’m okay you mother hen, all thanks to you I suppose.” Still, doubt lingered in his perfectly etched features. “I promise, Rhys. I’m alright.”  
“If you say so. If you need anything, don’t hesitate to ask for someone.”  
“I will.”  
A long stretch of silence spread out between them, uncomfortable in the heat of it. Rhys finally broke it by shaking his head and saying, “So… that just happened. You got roofied and had a knife held to your throat.”  
Remembering her injury she held a hand up to her neck to feel for a scar. A faint line could be felt, but it was nothing too serious. She grinned at him without restraint. Without fear of the past. Her near death experience made her realize that maybe… it was time to start living again.  
Rhys sucked in a breath, awe etched across his perfect features. It immediately made her stop smiling, looking confused at what was wrong.  
“Do it again.”  
“Do what again?”  
“Smile. I’ve never seen you do it like that before.”  
Saying to hell with the consequences, Feyre beamed at him, joy filling her for the first time in months.  
Tears glinted in Rhys’s eyes as he looked at her with pain. “This is all my fault. If I hadn’t done what my father wanted and started dating Amarantha, this never would have happened. I’m sorry, Feyre for the pain I've caused you. But rest assured, that I, too, have suffered under that bitch. Being around you makes my demons go away, even if just for a moment.”  
“Rhys-“  
“You don’t have to say anything. I just wanted to let you know that I’ve never stopped.”  
“Never stopped what?”  
“Loving you.”  
Now it was Feyre’s turn to cry. She covered her mouth, trying to suppress the sobs, and all the feelings she had denied herself; not wanting to believe that this was finally real, lest she get hurt again.  
“I’m so sorry, Feyre darling. There is nothing I could ever do to make it up to you. I will spend the rest of my life in shame over the consequences of my actions.”  
Words failing her, Feyre took his hand in hers, and gently pulled him closer. She patted the bed next to her, scooting over to make room for him. This was real, she reminded herself. He was real.  
Hesitantly he settled in beside her, not seeming to know what to do. “I don’t expect anything of this but-“  
“You’re such an idiot. I’ve never stopped either, Rhys. You’re all I’ve wanted. You complete me.”  
Carefully, a question in his eyes, he leaned over and gently pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Is this alright?”  
She nodded, tears streaming down her face. “It’s more than alright.”  
She threw her arms around him and kissed him on the lips, making up for all the time they spent apart.  
Her heart monitor went wild as her heart rate escalated at the feeling of Rhys touching her.  
A nurse raced in, found them having a moment, and walked out again.  
“To the stars who listen,” Feyre whispered the words to him that she had once said long ago.  
Not missing a beat, he answered, “And the dreams that are answered.”  
“You’re my dream, Rhys. Now and forever.”  
“I’m never letting go again.”  
They spent the rest of the night cuddled up against each other, not saying a word, but merely enjoying one another’s company as they had done before. The world was righted once more as they lay there in each other’s arms. Their happily ever after was just beginning. A new story, with new characters, but a happy ending all the same.


End file.
